I love musicals! Musical theater, movie musicals, I love them all! I know some people just can't get into musicals--something about a routine scene and then people bursting into song just drives them nuts. But honestly, don't we all have times when we wish life was like that? Times when a song was the resolution to our problems or the way we celebrated something wonderful?

My brain works a little like a musical production. Seriously! There are so many times when a song comes to me and it is not a conscious choice. I know for certain that God uses music to speak to me because it's the language I best understand. It's the easiest way to reach me and through a song, I hear His voice more clearly.

When I am troubled, usually a song will come to mind during a night of fitful slumber. The song isn't anything that I consciously choose . . . it's a song that brings me peace and comfort.

When I am frustrated, I often think of the lyrics of some song (these songs take some deliberate thought) that are usually a tongue-in-cheek response to whatever I'm frustrated about. And usually something that I find myself chuckling over later.

One of my favorite musicals is "The Sound of Music." I could watch it again and again and every single song in that musical has a special message just for me. That's what good theater does--it says something unique to each individual.

Today, as I was reading through a daily devotion, I was reminded of one of my favorite scenes from "The Sound of Music." Do you remember the scene when Maria is sent from the Abbey to be the Von Trapps nanny and she is scared silly about it? She's walking to her destination--at first with some trepidation but later, we see her swinging her valise and singing to the top of her lungs about how confident she is that she will make a difference in the lives of the Von Trapp children. It's the whole point of the song that made me recall it . . . she has the confidence she needs to make a difference in the lives of others. Her confidence is totally selfless!

Several years ago, I would have been described as an extremely self-confident person. Had I been Maria headed toward that new job, I wouldn't have had the slightest dread or worry. In fact, I would have been reveling in the prospect of a new job and even more excited that it was a huge challenge! You see, for me, the bigger the challenge, the better I liked it. Bring it on! I might not have all the answers, but I knew this about myself: I had the wherewithal to figure out what I didn't know!

Now, fast forward to 2008 . . . I had a high-powered job but during the couple of years before that, my health had started to decline. As my health deteriorated and my ability to face new challenges waned, so did my self-confidence. I believed that I lacked the ability to do anything meaningful. And I sank into a deep depression. Not because I was sick. Not because I didn't have a job. But because I believed I was in a situation that would keep me from achieving anything of much value.

I didn't know the lack of achievement was the problem at the time. When I had those feelings of worthlessness, I believed they were because I felt bad or because I felt hopeless about the future. But I learned later that those feelings of being so unworthy were born of a lack of achievement--an addiction that I'd had for more than 50 years! I had no idea that I craved it like an addict craves a drug, but for almost my entire life, even during grade school, my addiction--my coping mechanism--was achievement. It's how I defined myself and it's what made me feel valuable.

Well, you say, at least you weren't a drunk or a drug addict. But I might as well have been! When you take the ability to achieve success by the world's standards from a person who has defined herself by that, you've got a huge problem! Instead of this self-confident, tackle-the-world attitude, you've got a person who thinks she isn't worth a plug nickel! And that was me!

But over time, God began to work on me. And a couple of years ago, he started nudging me and then beating me over the head with this scripture passage:

2 Corinthians 12:9 ~ But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.

The Lord put that verse in my face all the time. I'm a little shocked that it didn't come to me in the form of a song, but perhaps if it had, I wouldn't have remembered it so well. Now, I've adopted it as my life verse. I even have a necklace that I wear that reminds me of what that verse means to me.

Today, I needed to pull out this verse and say it to myself several times. And guess what happened this morning . . . I got a devotional in my in box that quoted this passage! Don't you just love it when God does that? Not only was he reminding me of His message and His blessing on my life, but He was giving me a new take on it! By the way, Lord, let me just say "Thanks for that!" one more time.

Like Paul, I had to come to know what I could do on my own. Paul knew it and so do I . . . now. He knew he could accomplish absolutely nothing on his own! And I know it, too. All those years of achievement were pretty impressive, but I did none of it on my own, and all of it was nothing that matters in the long run. None of it matters one whit!

In the Bible Translation, The Message, my life scripture is paraphrased this way:

I was given the gift of a handicap to keep me in constant touch with my limitations. Satan’s angel did his best to get me down; what he in fact did was push me to my knees. No danger then of walk- ing around high and mighty! At first I didn’t think of it as a gift, and begged God to remove it. Three times I did that, and then he told me,

'My grace is enough; it’s all you need.

My strength comes into its own in your weakness.’

Once I heard that, I was glad to let it happen. I quit focusing on the handicap and began appreciating the gift. It was a case of Christ’s strength moving in on my weakness. Now that I take limitations in stride, and with good cheer, these limitations that cut me down to size-abuse, accidents, opposition, bad breaks. I just let Christ take over! And so the weaker I get, the stronger I become.

While I have conceded to let the weakness happen (and I have conceded), I am still struggling with using the word "gift" to describe it, even though I know in my head that it IS a gift.

Paul had great confidence. The prefix, “con” means “with” and the root “fid” means faith.” So if I am confident, it means that I walk in faith. It means that I am holy, chosen, redeemed, a beloved child of God empowered by the Holy Spirit. On days like today, I wouldn't describe myself as confident. But when I look at what Paul had---and that he could boast in his weakness--I know that he had God-confidence. And I have that today even though in my body, I feel weak.

While I am not confident that I can walk upstairs and clean out a closet, I am confident that God loves me and He has chosen me for this "gift" that I am still struggling to receive. But He knows my struggles and He understands them. He knows that I want to accept the gift, freely and willingly and rejoice in it. He knows that I want to say "Even though I feel like a train ran over me today, I am empowered by Your Holy Spirit and you dwell in me." And there it is . . . I just said it and guess what? I believe it! I feel it! I know it's real!

I can do nothing of any lasting value without Him! But when I take whatever comes my way and abide in Him and allow Him to work through me, I can accomplish what He calls me to do. Cleaning out that closet won't matter 10 minutes from now, but doing the things that Christ has called me to do will live on and on. And when I remind myself that His grace is enough, I am confident. I am walking in faith that He will use my weaknesses to show the world that I am strong because I am justified, sanctified, and purified through the blood of Christ Jesus!

It tells me all I trust I lead my heart to All I trust becomes my own. I have confidence in confidence alone . . .I have confidence (with faith) in confidence alone (with faith in Christ Jesus alone)! Besides, which you see, I have confidence in me . . .

I have confidence that because of my faith in Him, and Him alone, that I am stronger even when I appear to be the weakest. The weaker I get--the more I die to self--the stronger I become in my walk with the one who possesses all the strength! The one who showed his strength in His death on the cross when the crowd saw Him at His most vulnerable. The man who walked this earth for 33 years knowing that He didn't have to flex His muscles or demonstrate Himself as a man of power and achievement. The man who tells me that when I trust in Him, all I trust becomes my own!

Rusty and I have reached a stage in life where romance is defined so differently than when we first met. . . as you age and life happens, you simply appreciate a comfortableness that occurs with couples who have been through some stuff. So we find romance in the little things . . . a simple text exchanged in the middle of the day, an impromptu dinner out, a ride in the country scoping out flowers for a family function. I know! I know! It doesn't seem very exciting, does it?

But love and commitment aren't always exciting. There are life changes--job stresses; caring for and in our case, losing our parents; children leaving the nest; keeping up a house; and on it goes. But along with the hum-drum things that come our way come some amazing surprises! And this Valentine's Day, we got one of the best!

We were so excited to hear from Emily last Friday when she called to ask our plans for the following night. Since my boys are deploying this week, her reason for the visit was to catch up with them before they left the country. Because there are so many things to be done in preparation for their departure, I cautioned Emily we may not get everyone together, but assured her that we would have a good time even if it was just the four of us.

Emily and Jeff got to our house around 6:30 PM just as I was putting the finishing touches on my makeup and plugging in the curling iron to do my hair. Rusty called out to me, "Come here!"

I thought to myself, "This is stupid! I know they're here, and I'll be ready in two shakes!"

"Give me a minute!" I said

"Emily said you needed to come here!" he said a little louder.

I mumbled, a little annoyed at the interruption but so happy to see Emily and Jeff.

I ran my fingers through my hair and walked into the den were Emily and Jeff were facing Rusty as if they were waiting for some profound message from him. Expressionless faces . . . just standing and sort of staring with this blank look although I did detect a little bit of a grin on Jeff's face.

In his hand, Rusty held a red envelope and said that Emily had a Valentine's card for the two of us that we were to open together. Neither of us had our glasses so we couldn't read the darn thing, and as I took a couple of steps to the coffee table to retrieve mine, it hit me! There was a little more to this card than a simple gesture . . .

We're having a baby in our family! It's been about three years since we got one of these unexpected surprises, and as far as romantic evenings go, this night was one of the best ever!

There is nothing in the entire world quite as romantic as watching the circle of life repeat itself in your children! I can only compare it to that walking on air feeling you get with your first big crush . . . ah, but this is soooo much better. And even this doesn't compare to the day in October when we welcome Baby Brown into our hearts and our family!

For several months now, our family has been busy with preparations for the wedding of my husband Rusty's only child, Emily. She and fiancé Jeff have been a couple for about seven years, and as we've gotten to know Jeff, we've all decided he's a pretty great guy.

As word has gotten out that there will soon be a new marriage in our family, people have asked about the wedding and the man Emily is marrying. My standard reply is usually something like “Emily and Jeff are so compatible and I’m very happy for them.”

My response is not a pat answer--it's sincere because I really do believe they are a perfect fit for one another. They started their relationship as friends in high school and that friendship was cultivated until it eventually blossomed into a romance. And I believe that strong friendships often make for the best long-term relationships.

Marriage shouldn’t force you to give up the friendship part of your relationship. Your spouse should be your best friend. I saw a quote the other day, and it makes a good point about what marriage should be: “If there is such a thing as a good marriage, it is because it resembles friendship rather than love.”

My wish for Jeff and Emily is that as their relationship becomes more intimate that they will maintain the thing that brought them together in the first place—friendship! Your best friend is the person who still loves you—warts and all. Your best friend liked you (like is way more important than love in my book) before you even tried to impress them in a manner that you hoped would eventually win their love. Friendship is what will sustain you during the hard times, and it will compel you to turn to one another during times of great joy and during times of unbelievable sadness. A great friendship is a place of refuge. Just like home, it’s the place you want to be in times of celebration and in times of frustration.

Frederick W. Robertson said, “Home is the one place in all this world where hearts are sure of each other. It is the place of confidence. It is the place where we tear off that mask of guarded and suspicious coldness which the world forces us to wear in self-defense, and where we pour out the unreserved communications of full and confiding hearts. It is the spot where expressions of tenderness gush out without any sensation of awkwardness and without any dread of ridicule.” Doesn’t that describe a phenomenal friendship equally as well? And to have a marriage that includes all of these things—freedom to be who we are, the ability to communicate everything in our hearts, to love and be loved without the slightest hint of self-consciousness—WOW!

So to Emily and Jeff, the friends who have become lovers, may you have a marriage that is all of these things and more.

If you've seen my profile on my Facebook page, you've probably wondered about this little tidbit of information:

My big claim to fame is that I know Josh Turner, the country singer, personally. I was responsible for putting him on a "big" stage for the first time. It's true! I have a magazine article to prove it!

One of my new Facebook friends picked up on it and was curious about how I came to know Josh and what led to my claim to fame. I promised her I would post about it in my blog, so here it is . . .

From 1992 through 1998, I worked for the Pee Dee Education Foundation, a nonprofit that raised money and initiated programs in the 18 rural school districts of the Pee Dee region. I can honestly say, it was the best job I ever had. I have a passion for education, and I loved taking a young organization and being given the freedom to make it grow.

The foundation didn't have a huge endowment, so I literally sang for my supper. If I didn't raise money, I didn't get paid! What I know about fundraising is that it's a lot more about friend raising than going out and asking for money. Name awareness and recognition of the organization's work is what brings the money in and keeps it coming in.

Since the day I took the job as executive director of the foundation, I had heard countless stories of a similar foundation in Raleigh that held an annual performing arts showcase called "Pieces of Gold" that raised thousands of dollars. The event was so successful that they hired someone to work on it year round.

Sometime during my second year on the job, my secretary Joanne Creel and I decided we would go to Raleigh and find out what all the fuss was about. Two weeks before the performance, we had to beg, borrow, and plead to get tickets to the event held in a 1500-seat auditorium! We finally got our tickets and we headed to Raleigh to see the big show. The hype was all true! We were blown away by the talent and professionalism of the show!

The following year, the foundation board felt we were ready to stage our own "Pieces of Gold" so, with the help of my trusty sidekick Joanne, I set about to make it happen. We found a director for the show and she recruited stage hands and other help to manage the massive number of children who would perform. We came up with a name and branding so that the show would be highly recognizable from year to year. Our show was called "H'Artfelt Expressions" and was held annually in February to tie in with Valentine's Day. Schools were contacted and asked to submit video auditions and the show's director and a panel of unbiased judges chose the 18 to 20 acts for the show.

The first show was held at the Florence Civic Center. Now, that is certainly not a venue that evokes a lot of excitement, but you need to know and recognize that the Pee Dee region is extremely rural. For most of the children who participated, singing on a celebrity-sized stage was a BIG deal. Many of those children had never traveled outside of their own home towns.

In discussing the show with the board, we wanted to do our best to include an act from every school district. But nobody auditioned from the tiny, rural school district of Hanna-Pamplico--District 3. It just so happened that my secretary, Joanne, lived in that school district, and when I asked if she thought we could get an act from th district, she said, "I know somebody!"

Joanne attends Union Baptist Church and one of the congregants there at the time was a young man named Josh Turner. Josh often sang at church functions and made no secret of the fact that his one aim in life was to go to Nashville and become a country singer. His inspiration was Randy Travis.

Joanne contacted Josh and he was more than anxious to send in his audition tape and let the judges take a look at his performance. I believe his audition song was "Diggin' Up Bones." After the judges selected the acts for the show, of course, Josh was one of them. Realizing his talent, they decided that he should be the final act just before the grand finale where more than 500 children would perform together. The audience was literally surrounded by children. Even now, when I think about it, that hairs on my arms stand up!

The selected acts were notified and the show's director verified what their performance would include to make sure it was age appropriate and suitable for our goal of recognizing the talent from the schools in the Pee Dee. Josh was still undecided about what he wanted to sing . . . "Miz Maaarrrtha, what about 'Diggin' Up Bones'?"

Well, for some reason, I just didn't want "Diggin' Up Bones" to be the last song of the evening, so I pondered on it a while and asked Josh if he would mind singing "Thank God for Kids." The seventeen-year-old boy sort of scrunched up his face, made a little groaning noise, and offered another suggestion. I promised Josh that if he would end the show with my selection that he could sing whatever he wanted to the following year. So he obliged.

The night of the show came and it was mass chaos! I was a nervous wreck about all the little details, but nevertheless, I had done my part to make it happen and the show was going on whether I was ready or not. It was time to take my place on the stage to introduce the show and then I would be banished to the audience to worry about whether everything was going okay backstage.

There were a few little glitches, but most of the acts were wonderful! I kept looking around at the audience and they seemed to be enjoying themselves. At least nobody left at intermission!

It was finally time for Josh to go on. True to form, he was dressed in jeans, a Western shirt, and a cowboy hat with his guitar in tow. Josh took the stage like a pro and squinted a little at the spot lights. The orchestra looked at Josh for their cue, and the star in him came out!

If it weren't for kids, have you ever thought there wouldn't be no Santa Claus or look what the stork just brought? Thank God for kids! And we don't live in a quiet house without Big Bird or a Mickey Mouse and Kool-Aid on the couch. Thank God for kids! Thank God for kids, there's magic for a while; a special kind of sunshine in a smile. If you ever stop to think or wonder why--the nearest thing to Heaven is a child . . .

I was so glad I'd been able to talk Josh into singing that song! It was even better than I'd imagined! All eyes were on him, and everybody in the audience knew this guy was something special! His rendition of the song was exceptional!

Just when I thought I couldn't be wowed any more, Josh wound up for the ending of the song . . . he reached up and took off his hat, held it over his heart, and dropped to one knee . . .

When you get down on your knees at night and thank the Lord for His guiding light and pray they'll turn out right. Thank God for kids! Oooh-ooh . . .

And then in that deep, bass voice that has now become so famous, Josh spoke the final phrase--Thank God for kids!

People! The house came down! The audience was on its feet, applauding and cheering! For me, it was one of those mountaintop moments!

Josh performed in "H'Artfelt Expressions" the next year, and everyone involved with the foundation was predicting his fame. He graduated from high school and I knew that he was going to school in Tennessee and ultimately, he planned to go to Nashville to pursue his dream. But after that, I changed jobs and sort of lost track.

Several years later, I was headed down I-20 after a long day in Columbia. I was scanning radio stations somewhere around the Bishopville exit and stopped searching for a station when I heard a familiar voice come across the car speakers . . . I knew that voice! It wasn't anybody I'd heard sing on the radio before because at the time, I was not a big fan of country music.

I listened to the song and kept wracking my brain to try and remember where I had heard that voice. When the song ended, the announcer from WEGX-92.9 said, "That was Josh Turner from Hanna, South Carolina with his new, top-10 single, Long, Black Train!"

Woo-hoo! Josh had made it to Nashville! I was prouder than a peacock! And whenever I'm with somebody and one of his songs comes on the radio, I can't help but say: "I know him, you know?"

As a child, I loved to sing--still do. I was one of those little girls with a soft, sweet voice and I picked up a lot of songs from Mama--songs she sang around the house as she puttered about cleaning and cooking. Other songs, I picked up from my aunts who all have beautiful voices. It's true--the Lane family is gifted with talent, especially singing.

I remember my first solo in church . . . it was during a Christmas play, and while I don't remember the song, I have a vivid picture in my mind still. I must have been four or five, and I can see myself standing at the front of the left side of pews in the little country church. There was a Christmas tree in the middle and to the right, there was a huge oil heater.

My hair was long and dark with just a hint of a flip at the ends. For my part in the holiday pageant, I wore pajamas. They were white with pink flowers--the kind with the feet in them. And I held a teddy bear in my chubby, little arms. It's funny how that picture in my head has always had a strong resemblance to my granddaughter Brennyn. When I look at her now, the memory of myself that Christmas often comes to mind.

I do not remember being afraid or bashful, although I was pretty shy in those days. But I remember the people in the congregation smiling. Big smiles! I don't remember seeing anyone in my family among the crowd. I know they were there, but I suppose Mama was running around in the back somewhere making things happen as was her habit. As my Aunt Mary would say, Mama was "a doer."

Most of my later stage appearances happened at Floyd Dale Elementary School. As a second grader, one of our favorite activities during recess was playing beauty pageant. Miss America was a really big deal in those days and since the girls outnumbered the boys, we won out and the boys were the judges. One of the low tables that served as desks for us wee ones was our make-shift stage, and the child-sized chairs were positioned--one on each end--to enable us to step onto the runway.

Of course, the only segments of the pageant that we did were the interview portion and the talent competition. To this day, I am kidded about my selection for the talent portion . . . I always chose to sing "Moon River!" Always!

This song I learned from my cousin Jo Ellen who is a couple of years older than I am. Her parents lived "in the city (Florence)", and were much younger than my parents. So the songs she heard were a little more current than my repertoire. I still remember her sitting in the front porch swing at Grandma and Granddaddy Lane's house singing "Moon River." I didn't have a clue what the words meant, but I was completely enchanted with the song. And I had no idea there was a movie called "Breakfast at Tiffany's" or that Audrey Hepburn sang the famous song as part of her role. Heck, I didn't even know there was anybody named Audrey Hepburn! The only person I had ever heard sing the song--other than Jo Ellen--was Andy Williams. Still, I loved the song--and I do to this day.

Today, I came across a quote from Audrey Hepburn. Her advice was so wise that I felt it needed to be shared . . .

For attractive lips, speak words of kindness.For lovely eyes, seek out the good in people.For a slim figure, share your food with the hungry.For beautiful hair, let a child run his fingers through it once a day.For poise, walk with the knowledge that you never walk alone.

Like little girls in a beauty pageant, we often judge ourselves--and others--by how they look or what they accomplish. As for me, I'd like to be judged for my kindness. I'd like to be known as someone who looks for the good in people. I want to be remembered as a woman who shared her blessings with those less fortunate--not a woman who carried around extra pounds for a big part of her adult life.

Aaaahh, to have children run their fingers through my hair every day is one thing that I know makes me feel beautiful. Who cares how my hair looks when they're done twirling and mussing it? I know that their little eyes see beauty.

And now, more than 40 years after playing make believe as a contender for a crown, I have the poise of a queen. I have the knowledge that I never walk alone because Jesus walks beside me.

For almost a month, the wedding of my husband’s daughter Emily has created a bustle of activity around our house. All the pre-nuptial parties have been a little over an hour’s drive for me and the things I’ve done to help Emily prepare for the wedding have been worked on late at night after Rusty was in bed. So while I was planning and partying, I had plenty of time to think about weddings and what leads to them—love!

It’s not unusual for me to wake up in the morning with a scripture verse or a hymn stuck in my mind that, no doubt, results from the things that swirled around in my head for the majority of the day before. This morning, the voice in my head was humming the hymn “O Love That Will Not Let Me Go.”

I have absolutely no idea why that particular hymn came to my mind because it’s not one that was sung very often in any of the churches I ever attended. I may have played it at a wedding a time of two, but the words of the hymn are not ones I could easily recall. The title line was about all that I could bring to mind. But there it was, several hours later, rolling around in my brain.

I love music, but it drives me nuts when I can’t get a song out of my head—especially if it’s one I don’t know the words to. So, I finally sat down at my computer and turned to YouTube . . .

Pretty awesome, isn’t it? I couldn’t help but wonder what compelled the lyricist, George Matheson, to pen such beautiful poetry, so I turned to Google . . . The history of the hymn is rooted in a wedding! Matheson’s sister was getting married and for reasons only a jilted lover can understand, Matheson stayed home. . .

Years before, Matheson had been engaged to be married himself. Plans were being made for his own wedding when he began to experience problems with his vision. After seeing several doctors, Matheson was told that nothing could be done to save his sight. When his fiancé learned that her future husband was going blind, she told him she could not go through life with a blind man and broke the engagement.

Matheson, now alone and facing a future without even a hint of light, continued his studies for the ministry.According to some theologians of his time it was believed that Matheson might have been the leader of the Church of Scotland had it not been for his blindness. He had written a learned work on German theology as well as a book, “The Growth of the Spirit of Christianity.” But critics gave mixed reviews of the book. Some declared it brilliant while others pointed out mistakes. Charged with being an inaccurate student, Matheson felt defeated and broken. When Matheson saw that his blindness could possibly be a fatal hindrance, he withdrew from his pursuit of theology and went into pastoral ministry.

Finally, Matheson was led to a church where he regularly preached to a congregation of over 1,500. But he was only able to do this because of the care of his sister and now she was married and gone. His sister’s marriage brought a fresh reminder of his own lost love and he despaired over how he would manage to minister to his congregation without his sister’s help.

In the midst of intense sadness, the Lord inspired Matheson to pen the beautiful hymn—written, according to his account, in five minutes! Listen to the words—the images they paint. Though Matheson had long since lost his sight, he had not lost the memories of God’s beautiful creations!

“O light that followest all my way, I yield my flickering torch to thee; My heart restores its borrowed ray, That in thy sunshine’s blaze its day May brighter, fairer be.” Matheson seems to be saying that he yields his darkness to his Savior with the knowledge that his sight was only a borrowed blessing and the real light comes from his salvation. He claims the promise that he will one day know a brighter, fairer day in Heaven.

Looking back over his life, Matheson once wrote that his was “an obstructed life, a circumscribed life… but a life of quenchless hopefulness.” Hopefulness! Matheson saw his suffering not as a hopeless situation, but as a mere obstruction. How could he maintain such hope in the midst of such trials?

What a lesson for us! Matheson starts the hymn by saying he will rest his weary soul in the arms of his loving Savior. And he gives his life back to the one who created him so that his life may be fuller and richer. Then he says “I trace the rainbow in the rain, and feel the promise is not vain” The rainbow image is not for Matheson! He is claiming God’s promise and testifying to the Lord’s faithfulness even in the midst of great hardship!

Precious Jesus, may I rest my weary soul in Thee at those times when I feel despondent. May I give you the life You’ve given me to use it as You will, knowing that Your love will never let me go!

A few nights ago, when God urged me to read and meditate on Psalm 144:1, I spent several hours focusing on that scripture. Those of you who know me well know that I love researching just about anything on the Internet. I like the challenge of seeing how much information I can find.

So, I read various takes on Psalm 144:1 and then came up with my own (see post dated 2/19/10). At that very moment, God sent the exact words that I needed to hear. Like fingers sheathed in a warm, velvety glove, the scripture fit my circumstances perfectly.

Never one to stop searching when I stumble upon something that speaks to me, I continued to explore various Internet sites. I love flipping the pages of my Bible, but if you ever see me carrying it and wonder why the pages aren’t worn and dog-eared, there are two reasons for that:

1) I haven’t had this particular Bible all that long—maybe 3 or 4 years; and 2) I do most of my studying and delving into the scriptures using an Internet site called Bible Gateway.

I looked for Biblical references to “war” and “battle” realizing quickly that the Scriptures are filled with passages that tell us how to do battle over sin and evil—how to wage spiritual warfare. As I read through passage after passage, my thoughts were always on Dustin and how these scriptures would be encouraging to him. I promised myself to either send him one or two verses every day or to write something about these passages in my blog to encourage him--and myself. After jotting down several dozen verses to reference later, I decided it was time for me to finally unwind and get some sleep.

While my trip to Pinehurst gave opportunities for relaxation, it was exhausting! My sister-in-law and I stayed up the first night talking until 3 AM. The second night, I had a crisis with some pictures I was required to take (it was a business trip, after all), and I went to bed after 2 AM that night. Now, well past an hour that any sane person should still be awake, I started another of my rituals.I find it very hard to go to bed without straightening the kitchen. It doesn’t have to be spotless, but I like to load the dishwasher and go through the clutter—receipts and hardware that Rusty has taken from his pockets and the mail. Since I had been gone for three days, the mail was piled high.

I noticed a package in a brown, padded envelope, but moved it aside to go through the rest of the mail. Thinking it was probably a book I’d ordered, I put it aside and plowed through the catalogs, putting the ones I wanted to glance through later into a stack and walking to the laundry room to drop the others into the recycling bin. Next, I shuffled through the fliers and promotional mailers and tossed most of those in the garbage.

Finally, I picked up the manila envelope trying to recall what I had ordered. I glanced at the return address and didn’t recognize it or the store as any of the online sites I had shopped recently. Now my curiosity was piqued!

I opened the junk drawer for a pair of scissors, but as usual, they had been removed and not returned. Now anxious to see the contents of the mysterious envelope, I shuffled through the silverware drawer and grabbed a steak knife.

Though I was anxious, I was careful as I cut across the top of the envelope. Inside was a beautiful, leather-bound journal with diagonal stitches around the edges and on the front. In the center of the cover was a circle outlined in the same leather stitching. Amidst the leather threads was a pale, brown stone that signified this book was something to be treasured.

I untied the string that held the book closed to reveal a textured paper—the kind that looks handmade. As I opened the first page, a business card fell to the floor. I picked it up and on the back was a handwritten note.

I won’t be able to talk with you often, so I thought you’d like to write down your thoughts and feelings so we can share when I return. Love, Dustin

My sweet son had taken the time to pick out a gift for me to arrive just before his deployment. I was touched that he had known exactly the right thing to buy and that he had put so much thought into a gift that so suited my character.

You see, Dustin and I have been through a lot together. We know each other well. And during his time in Indiana as he trained to deploy, our conversations had been a bit stilted. I found myself a little sad at the end of each call because the son whom I was able to have warm and wonderful conversations with most of his life seemed very distracted and in a hurry to hang up. In hindsight, I realize that he was pretty stressed and probably was putting a bit of mental distance between himself and the people he loves.

I felt my chest begin to tighten from the sheer effort of quelling my emotions. I walked to the sofa and clutched the journal to my chest. As I closed my eyes, I had a mental slide show running through my head...Dustin as a tow-headed toddler who was always into something, memories of snuggling with him in the recliner and afternoon chats about his day, pictures of him during that gawky phase that all kids go through and snippets of conversations between us about how he would not always be chubby. And finally, images of him as he boarded a bus in Andrews to begin the first aspect of his official deployment.

Then the tears flowed! I cried for joy because my son remembered the things that are important to me. I cried because I wanted to give him a hug and couldn’t. But the tears that flowed most freely were those that came from the speaking of the Holy Spirit to me during this long night of internal conflict.

God's timing is so perfect! For hours I had searched God's Word for comfort and encouragement--for me and my son. But had I discovered the journal before I discovered God's words of comfort, I may have allowed a material possession to interfere with my discovery of the peace that passes all understanding. The peace that can only come from knowing Jesus and what He wants for us.

Even though the scriptures brought a calming, God knew that as a mother, I needed just a little more--a tangible sign that Dustin and I would always have that connection between us despite the great physical distance. I wonder if Dustin knew that God was using him when he bought that journal. I hope he sensed the presence of the Heavenly Father as he thought of his earthly mother and the struggle I would face during his time away. I wonder. . .

I got home last night after being away for three days . . . a last minute trip to the beautiful Pinehurst Resort. The timing could not have been more perfect. You see, right now, I really NEED a distraction because in a few short days, my son Dustin will be leaving for Afghanistan.

It's hard for me to unwind at night, especially after a trip. Rusty was already asleep when I came in so I pulled out my laptop. I clicked on my inbox and went about my typical process for reading e-mails. I scan and delete what appears to be junk and come back to the others. Depending on my mood, sometimes I read the good stuff on the spot. But if I have other things to do or if I’m distracted, I usually wait until later to get into the weightier communications.

As I performed my electronic ritual, my mind wandered to Dustin. His departure is so close at hand that the time can just as easily be measured in hours as in days. And with each hour that passes, my mental clock ticks away in harsh cacophony.

TOCK . . . Is he ready--not just physically, but emotionally, and more importantly, spiritually?

Despite the apprehension of Dustin's looming departure, I decided to go back to the more substantive e-mails because I wasn't ready to sleep and I was hoping to silence the ticking in my brain by finding something worthy of my attention--a more productive distraction.

I get several short devotionals every day, and I opened one that referenced Psalm 144:1 Blessed be the LORD my strength which teacheth my hands to war, and my fingers to fight . . .

When David penned this verse, he was looking for strength for a specific purpose. And in the wee hours of this morning, so was I. While my initial reading of the passage reminded me of the physical battle that Dustin is facing, I soon realized that I, too, need preparation. And I need to be far better equipped than I am at this moment.

My faith is strong, but neither Dustin nor I will get through this experience by trusting in our strength alone. More than a year ago, Dustin volunteered to serve and I've known for quite a while that he would be deployed last month. But I must admit that I did not use that time wisely. I have not been laying the groundwork for the war I will wage.

Before soldiers officially move to the battleground, a lot of training takes place. For the past six weeks or so, Dustin has been preparing to fight the enemy. He has been in training to do battle with those who hate our country.

But the soldier’s mom spent the first two weeks Dustin was gone fretting and crying. Then, I seemed to get a grip on my emotions and I was finally able to talk about his deployment without breaking down. And then, this week rolled around—THE WEEK! The trip to Pinehurst came out of nowhere, and I was more than eager to find something to occupy my thoughts—something other than war and the clock ticking in my head.

Oh, I’ve been praying for Dustin every day. I’ve been praying for strength constantly. But now, I realize how ridiculous my prayers must seem. Here I sit asking the Lord to guide my footsteps, but I am not moving my feet! It seems I’ve just expected strength to report for duty but I have not done much to put my hands to war or my fingers to fight.

God does not expect us to simply bask in the glow of His power supply. What gives me the right to ask for an increase in strength when I’m not even using the over abundance of grace that He has already given?

I’m a Christian Soldier, and I must not forget that the Lord is my ever-present strength. He will not be found by trusting in myself. In fact, if I was putting feet on my prayers, I wouldn’t even need to be reminded of His power! I may be fearful but He will never lack courage! He will always expect--and win--the victory!

David didn’t just call on the Lord for strength. In his prayer, he reminded himself that he is in constant need of instruction from the Teacher. The Teacher . . .

Yes, Dustin is prepared to do battle physically. But he—and his mom—must put on the full armor of God. Our chosen weapon is not an AK-47 but the sword of the Spirit. No tactical guide, no amount of discipline, no training can compare to the Divine Text Book that lays out the military tactics of the war of all wars. The spiritual warfare that pits God against Satan.

In God’s Word, Satan’s methods of attack are chronicled. We know the devil’s every tactical maneuver and we don’t even need a covert spy to disclose this information to us! Even the weapons he uses against us are right there!

Around 2 AM, I felt calmer, less apprehensive. I felt a sense of renewal and purpose. And I started moving my feet!

Since the end of 2007, I have experienced one health problem after another. I won’t go into all those here. But suffice it to say that the woman always described by her employers as Super Woman is currently more akin to Droopy Dog. Just when I thought one problem was resolved, another thing would crop up. I know many of the people close to me thought I was a hypochondriac . . . but that’s their deal—not mine. I believe in the power of prayer and that when you’re going through some hard times, you need to rally the prayer warriors. I am blessed to have a huge extended family that is strong in their faith. When I ask my siblings, aunts, uncles, and cousins to pray for me, I know they will. I am also blessed with a lot of friends who are believers, and I have some close ones who will pray when I ask (and probably many who pray when I don’t). As I was de-cluttering my email recently, I found one of the prayer requests I sent out a few months before I was diagnosed with my most recent health issue—a diseased gall bladder (which, thankfully, has been removed). I am doing much better physically, and all those prayers to the Healer of all Healers were heard.

The content of the email speaks for itself, but it is apparent that God was—and still is—working in my life and speaking to me through so many of the people who are faithful to pray for me and with me.

September 17, 2009

Hi all! I put a post on Facebook asking for prayer warriors, and I am overwhelmed by the response. Just after I emailed some of you to pray yesterday, I got my daily devotional from my friend Laura, and I knew it was a God thing . . . September 15, 2009: Beloved, your difficult circumstances can either be a stepping stone to the manifestation of My grace and glory, or they will be a tombstone that represents the death of hope. Right now, today, choose life and see the working out of My strength being made perfect in your weak- ness. This is certainly no time to retreat or give up; it is a time to re-fire and move forward with renewed faith. Rise up and refuse to allow the enemy to use your current situation to neutralize you, says the Lord. II Corinthians 12:9 ~ And He said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for My strength is made perfect in weakness." Therefore most gladly I will rather boast in my weaknesses, that the power of Christ may rest upon me.

Could God have sent more suitable words of encouragement at that exact time? The prayer warriors are out in full force to do battle against Satan and to encourage me. I have been especially encouraged today by notes from some of you—especially this one from my big brother, Vic, who was 16 years old when I came along. I was so overwhelmed (and proud) that I posted it on Facebook, but in case you didn't see it there, I've included it here. I sure am blessed to have three big brothers who love me, but more importantly, love the Lord.

Been thinking of you a lot the past few days and praying for you, too. Heard this songthis morning and thought of you. It made me think of the first time I ever held you in my arms--it was awesome!

Of course, I cried like crazy--and so did Rusty. I love you, Vic—I don't think anybody has ever made me feel so special! That was truly one of the best presents I have ever been given!

Finally, I made friends with a young man through my farming on Facebook. I know, I know . . . some of you think that's so silly, but it is a fun game and I have seen a lot of Christian witness take place when one friend works on another's farm. Stephen is from Alabama and when he found out I was from SC, he told me he was coming to Greenville soon for Centrifuge. At any rate, that conversation turned into an agreement to be prayer partners. Stephen later sent me his testimony and I hope he doesn't mind my sharing some of it . . .

Stephen has cerebral palsy and when he was very young, his parents were told that he would never walk. He proved the doctors wrong. His parents were told that he would not be able to do many things, but he is quite accomplished --his spiritual gift is encouragement and he shares it freely. Stephen works in a school and I have every confidence in saying that he is a bright light to the students there.

I hear from Stephen every day—usually, he tells me he has prayed for me. Sometimes, he emails me a prayer. Other days, he sends me a scripture reference. Today, Stephen caught up with me and said he had a song for me. I've included it here along with a scripture passage he shared.

John 9:1-3 ~ Now as Jesus passed by, He saw a man who was blind from birth. And His disciples asked Him saying, "Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?" Jesus answered, "Neither this man nor his parents sinned, but that the works of God should be revealed in him."

I don't think I ever told Stephen this, but when my physical battle started at the end of 2005, I was told by a minister that I should consider that my health problems were due to some unresolved sin in my life. I told him I had considered the possibility, but I confess my sins and know for sure that once they are confessed, they are no more. Still, this minister continued to persist in talking over this theory with me for many months. I am so glad Stephen saw fit to remind me that God will be glorified in every situation with those who love Him.

I wanted to let you all know that I am encouraged and I continue to ask that you lift me up in prayer whenever I come to mind. I hope that some of what I've written here encourages you, too. God is good! And more importantly, He is in control!

I am not sure that I will ever be Super Woman again—or that I even want to be. But I am certain that I want to be the woman God created me to be. And I know that I can accomplish that through prayer and Bible study--and the encouragement of friends and family.

Why is it that we spend most of out meaningful years doing the things prescribed by others? Sure, I know that as kids we have to do what our parents say, so we spend the first 20 years of our lives marching to their orders. The last five or so of those years, we participate in a sort of tango with our parents as we try to assert our independence and they try to rein us in. It’s all done out of love, but in such an immature state, we rarely recognize the importance of parental boundaries.

Then, we go off to college or select a mate. We think we’re our own people in college, living it up away from home. But there always comes a day of reckoning when we realize we’re living on our parents’ money, and they are still very much in charge. With marriage comes compromise, and many of us (especially the female gender) take on the identity of our partners. We immerse ourselves in his life, and before we know it, we forget those lofty dreams and ambitions. Children come along, and dreams are put on hold.

To make a living, we enter the world of work. Very few of us are fortunate enough to fall into our dream jobs the first (or even the second and third) time out. So we spend the next 40 years working within someone else’s system and playing by their rules unless we’re lucky enough to work for ourselves.

I am extremely adaptable and can be content in almost any situation. So I have actually enjoyed most of the jobs I’ve held. But as I got older and took on jobs with more responsibility, I learned that higher pay, more important positions, and greater prestige carried a high price. I always thought that as I advanced in position, I would be able to do things more on my own terms, but I didn’t find that to be the case. Maybe it was only my situation . . . it seemed as I climbed the corporate ladder I was expected to do more with less. As I exited certain positions, I found that in more than one instance, two (or more) people were doing the same job that I had done alone. Makes me wonder . . . perhaps the problem is me and not the jobs. Hmmmm . . .

In my last job, I helped a small company grow into a larger and more profitable one. I was promoted quickly and made a great salary—one that most people only dream about. But in the end, the money and position didn’t matter much. For whatever reason, it seemed that I reached a point at which I had outlived my usefulness. I think the turning point came when I made a conscious decision that I would not work round the clock—that I would have a life outside of work. And when I waffled in that decision, my body took over and made the final judgment call for me.

For a long time, I resisted. Even when I didn’t feel well, I always put in 60 hours a week. So it seemed that when I cut back to only 60 to 70 hours a week, I was not very useful. It was never enough! I started out giving away so much of me that when I tired of the workaholic lifestyle, the less frenetic pace was insufficient.

Now, for the first time since I was 14 years old, I am unemployed! And I must admit that I am enjoying it more than I ever thought I could. I can sleep late, take naps, read a good book. But you know what? I don’t do those things often . . .

I am so enamored with being a grandmother that I forego such luxuries. And on the rare occasions that I choose to indulge in some of the things employed people don’t get to do, I take naps with my best buddy, Brennyn. I read a good book with interesting characters like Elmo, Corduroy, and Peter Rabbit. And I get up early to babysit while my son and daughter-in-law make a living—on someone else’s terms.